“You know, we’re not too far from Penelope’s Bakehouse,” I said.
Ryan chuckled. “Still got cookies on the brain?”
“They were so good. And ours didn’t turn out that great.”
He smirked. “That’s because half of the flour ended up on the counter and floor.”
“And why did that happen?” I teased.
Ryan just grinned like a cat who got the cream.
“We could take some cookies to Lisa and hit all the little libraries along the way out to her place.”
“Honestly, you had me at cookies,” he said as he took the turn that led him back toward the bakery.
Ten minutes later, there was a box of cookies for Lisa stashed safely on top of the books in the backseat, and a box of cookies for Ryan and me in my lap. Manhattan was in the rearview mirror, Ryan’s hand was on my thigh, and my arm was draped in the open window, fingers surfing the wind.
Today wasn’t just good.
Life was good.
My phone buzzed with an incoming text.
Lisa
Not home. I’m covering a friend’s shift at work. But the spare key is where it always is if you’re already there. Help yourself to the fridge if you’re hungry.
“Lisa’s at work,” I said as I glanced out the window and saw the road sign for her street. “But I know where the spare is. We can leave the cookies inside.”
Ryan pulled into Lisa’s driveway without even checking the GPS. Though she often dropped by the rental house, we had been over to her place a few times since the funeral.
The way Ryan and I had settled into life here wasn’t lost on me.
Coming home felt like putting on an old pair of jeans. I loved them, but they didn’t fit the way they used to. They were too tight in places. Too worn around the knees and thighs. Something that had once been a comfort now made me feel like a stranger in my own skin.
But not with him.
Ryan smoothed all those rough patches. He stitched up the holes and mended the tears.
While I pawed around the planter where Lisa kept the spare key hidden under a light layer of dirt, Ryan kept the cookies safe.
“Aha!” I said as I found the key and brushed the dirt off. I unlocked the door and slipped inside.
It was always strange walking into someone’s house when they weren’t there, but Lisa and Shep’s house had always felt like home. I headed to the bathroom while Ryan put the cookies in the kitchen.
When I came out, he was standing in front of the bookshelf, staring at their collection of my titles.
Ryan picked up a framed picture of a book signing where Shep and Lisa had surprised me. The three of us posed together, each holding a book. “Do they always go to your events?”
I shook my head. “No. Just when they could.” I trailed my fingers across the wood frame. “They always made it a surprise, though.”
I watched as he skimmed the spines of the books. “Do they have them all?”
“Yeah,” I said as I trailed my fingers along the neatly lined up spines. “Shep always asked for the very first copy. It was the one selfish thing he did. He wanted all the first editions.” My gaze went glassy. “I gave him every first edition. But the next one . . .” I swallowed the tumbling meteor in my throat. “I have to keep that one.”
Ryan wrapped his arm around my waist and tucked me into his side. “I don’t think Shep cared about which copy he got.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “He could have had a collection of five hundred first editions, but you’re the one he really treasured. The most rare and sought after.”
I curled into his side, not because I was ashamed to cry in front of Ryan Ford. But because I wanted him to hold me.
